Once more the familiar strains rang out, and brought to mind the years of stress and happy comradeship.
"Aurelle, do you remember Marguerite at Amiens—oh, and those two little singers at Poperinghe whom I used to call Vaseline and Glycerine? They sang English songs without understanding a word, with the funniest accent in the world."
"And the Outersteene innkeeper's
pretty daughters, Aurelle? Did you ever see them again?"
"Goodness knows where they've got to, sir; Outersteene isn't rebuilt yet."
"You never got to Salonica, did you? We had Mirka there; a fine pair of legs she had too!"
Meanwhile the Infant Dundas had discovered that Lieutenant Vincent played tennis, and had struck up a firm friendship. Taking hold of a palette, he began to explain a few strokes. "Look here, old man, if you cut your service towards the right, your ball will spin from right to left, won't it?"
Vincent, who had been somewhat reserved at first, was melting, like so many others, before the youthful charm of the Happy Nation.
Soon echoes of the hunt were heard in the studio, and Aurelle received full upon his person an orange that spun from right to left.
General Bramble took out his watch and reminded Aurelle he was taking the Orient Express. Beltara escorted him to the door, and Aurelle, Vincent and the Infant followed behind.